


it's a stormy day, sunshine baby

by watername



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14030262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername
Summary: being a weather-influencing sprite is a lot of responsibility.i.e. this is a magic realism metaphor about the social pressure of being happy





	it's a stormy day, sunshine baby

**Author's Note:**

> the allusions to depression are non-specific and more implied. i didn't plan to write something like this after december, but this is semi-therapeutic for my own personal experiences with anxiety and pressure.

Kibum woke up to the sound of rain slowly pattering against the sill that sat above their bed. He reached behind him blindly. Jinki wasn't snuggled up behind him as normal: there were no fingers lying spread in the soft hair below his waist, his breath wasn't tickling at the back of Kibum's neck. With the rain, it's less surprising that his boyfriend wasn't there; slow rain always made Jinki twist and turn. In bed, it's rolling over and over; when he's awake, he has to wander as though he could follow the water trails on the roof. His paths meander from the front door to the back, bare feet sliding along the ground. 

Better the slow rain than the hard, Kibum thought as he yawned and sat up. Hard rain meant damage. Last time, Jinki had had a nightmare as the rain lashed against their tiny home. A tree branch had cracked just as he had woken up, crashing onto their porch and breaking their steps. It had taken a long weekend to put that back together. Jinki's face had pinched with embarrassment as he fumbled the tools, scattering them in the sand. The wind carried his hair wildly as he bent down, hiding his face, until Kibum settled behind him with a hair tie to pull it back. His gentle old man had looked up at Kibum after he finished, and Kibum leaned down to kiss his forehead. 

They finished putting it back together as the sun was setting, and the stars began appearing in the clear night sky. 

Kibum stood up as he slid his glasses on, steadying himself against the wall as the old bed creaked. The beach was dim and cloudy; gray clouds were spilled across the horizon like the long lazy wipes of a paintbrush on canvas. The pier, a half-mile away, was barely visible, but Kibum knew his boyfriend well enough that he imagined he could see his shadow beneath it. 

He breathed in, deliberate and slow, and clambered down from his bed. His dogs perked up from their beds and he patted at his thigh for them to follow him into the kitchen. 

Patience, he thought as he scooped their food into their bowls. Patience was one of those things he wasn't naturally good at. 

So, instead he pulled up his computer. He cleaned up his inbox, reviewing the few work emails that had been sent late last night by his insomniac boss. He shook his boots out and slid them on; the umbrella opening up and out as he jogged out to the mailbox. The letter from his grandmother he set aside with a smile; the rest, the predictable junk, he tossed into the recycle bin.

The rain was still plunking down, the empty pots along the railing half-full. He glanced at the clock and pushed down on the urge to pop open the umbrella again and drag Jinki back by his ear. Instead, he wandered into the kitchen, where the take-out containers from last night were still sitting greasily on the counter. He pinched them between his fingers, careful to keep them clean, as he slid their remains into travel containers. He wrote carefully on each - "for Monday" and "for Tuesday" - before placing them in the fridge. 

 Nobody should be good at patience, he grumbled to himself. But he had to try on mornings like this. For Jinki. 

He settled in and pulled up his phone. He could at least count on that to eat up some time, even if it wasn't as productive as everything else.  

* * *

 Kibum looked up when the rain stopped, two hours after he had woken up. 

The hoodie closest to the door was Jinki's, smelling faintly of the generic store brand shampoo he refused to give up on. It slid on over his head, oversized and soft from hundreds of washes as he stepped outside. 

The rain stop held out for the short walk, and the wind itself was only cool enough to keep his hands tucked in to the center pocket. It was walk they had taken plenty of times together, their fingers lacing together, Jinki with a sly smile on his face as he tickled at Kibum's palm until the other man swatted at him, a protest on his lips that died when Jinki pulled him closer. 

Kibum pulled the hoodie around him tighter as a small figure came into sight. He indulged himself in fretting as he took in Jinki's posture: how still he was, facing the horizon, a slump in his shoulders that made him think he must have been out there for hours as the rain came down. 

He should have brought something thicker than that sweater, and he said so as soon as he drew close enough for Jinki to hear him without shouting.

"Sorry, Kibum," Jinki said, turning his head to look at him. He looked tired more than anything. 

"It's okay," he said, only a bit of scolding left in his voice. His hands fluttered impatiently inside the warm pocket, silently pushing Jinki to make room. It was a tight squeeze, even with their knees pressed together. 

"Tell me you at least brought some water."

Jinki flicked his eyebrows up in a silent, bad joke. 

"Making it rain doesn't count, old man," he shushed, biting his tongue at the urge to pull harder at the string. He began to elbow at him until Jinki lifted his arm, a cautious smile lifting his features. The sun peeped behind the clouds, and Kibum felt his worry begin to dissipate.

"It wasn't bad," Jinki said, soft and slow after a few minutes of silence between them, the only noise the dark ocean sending along its waves to lap at the earth. 

"It wasn't raining last night," Kibum replied, trying to stay measured for Jinki's sake. "Bad dream?"

Jinki shrugged as he breathed in, letting the air whistle out between his teeth. 

"Didn't dream at all," Jinki said. "I just woke up and it was raining."

Kibum drew his hand into the pocket and rubbed at it with his thumb, feeling the bird bones beneath Jinki's skin.  

"I'm sorry," Jinki said. "I shouldn't have..."

"Stop it," Kibum said more sharply than he intended. Jinki's hand stiffened in his grip, but he kept Kibum's gaze as the other man looked at him, stern. "I don't want an apology, baby. You don't need to apologize for anything."

Jinki flushed as he chewed at his lip.

"It was supposed to be sunny today."

The gray paintbrush clouds had softened while they talked, curls of them being drawn up by wind. The horizon was breaking apart, with pale blue scattering here and there. Kibum slid his left hand into Jinki's and moved his other hand to the base of Jinki's neck, fingers rubbing counter to the short, dark hair there. 

"It's been sunny for weeks. Did you know Taeyeon and Junghee are still sunburnt from when they visited? They would prefer a day like this right now."

He gestured down the sparse beach, the only people visible surfers out in the breakers, visitors that couldn't be shaken even on the stormiest of days. 

"A secluded, private beach just for us," he said lightly. The muscles moved beneath his fingers as they rubbed at Jinki's nape. "Can't get better than that."

Jinki let his head drop, rolling it to the left and right. Kibum would have missed the "sorry" he mumbled out if he hadn't been watching his face carefully, between the crook of his elbow and his hair, hanging loose in front of his head.

"Baby," he tried again. "It can't be like that every day."

Jinki shifted, his shoulderblades moving beneath the sweater. 

"You don't owe good weather to anybody. Not even me."

The first time they had kissed - the sun had broken out so sudden Kibum would have sworn he was blinded; the first time they had slept together, the wind had brought the smell of flowers so strongly Kibum would have sworn they were right outside their window. For every first time, there was a second, fifth, seventeenth time where it surprised Kibum, the knowledge that his boyfriend was something out of mythology, a clumsy, good-natured sprite whose emotions stirred at the weather like a spoon in the pot.

Jinki reluctantly turned his head to face Kibum; his eyes were closed but his mouth was pulled tightly shut. Kibum squeezed his hand in his and let Jinki squeeze back. 

"It doesn't have to clear up right now, baby," he said. "But let's walk together, okay?"

Jinki didn't respond, but he let Kibum press a kiss to the back of his neck and they waited, watching the waves crash.

* * *

 When Kibum wakes up the next morning, he arches his body to see outside. The clouds spiral endlessly into space like towers. Jinki lies beside him, eyes sleepy and half-open as Kibum moves his head above his.

"Not for me?" he asks, relieved when Jinki shakes his head. Kibum kisses him, slow and loving.

The wind brings in the smell of flowers and the sea. 


End file.
